


Hand In Hand

by unfancyandy



Series: Anatomy [2]
Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Baking, Evaktet, M/M, Nail Polish, Semi-Public Sex, Short & Sweet, a wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-07-06 06:44:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15880680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfancyandy/pseuds/unfancyandy
Summary: 5 times Isak's obsessed with Even's hands and 1 time it's a little different.





	1. the knead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even makes bread.

 

 

Something was burnt, that much Isak knew. He could smell it from the bottom of their apartment building. He was slightly worried there was a fire somewhere in the building and rushed inside to find Even. He threw his backpack down as soon as he went through the door.

Even had two oven mitts on and was using a baking pan to air out their apartment through the open window in their kitchen. He was surprised the smoke detector wasn’t blaring with all the smoke billowing from the dark brown blob on the counter. Also surprising was the fact that Even only had a Tshirt and his briefs on beneath his apron.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Even repeated to himself, not even hearing Isak enter.

“Even? What’s going on?” Isak asked.

Even turned to look over his shoulder, not stopping with the fanning, “I fucked up,” he admitted. And the way he said it and the way his face was so pink from the heat and the mess up, somehow it was hilarious to Isak. He couldn’t help laughing.

“Isak!” Even whined, “It’s not funny!”

But it really was. Even was a sight.

“Sorry, sorry!” Isak kept laughing. He walked over to the mess on the counter, “So, what was this supposed to be?”

Even huffed, setting the baking pan down loudly next to his failed attempt on the counter. “Can’t you tell?” Even spoke sarcastically, “I was trying to make bread.”

“Well,” Isak sighed.

“I know. It’s not my fault.”

“Of course not,” Isak smirked.

Even rolled his eyes and Isak laughed. “I set a timer on my phone. And well, I forgot to press start.”

“Oh my God,” Isak kept laughing. “And the burning smell didn’t alert you?”

Even smacked him with a towel, “Shut it!”

Then there was a knock at the door, “Hello?” an older voice called from the hallway.

Isak opened the door to find Mrs. Svendsen, an old lady from the down the hall Isak was sure had heard their sex sounds before. “Everything alright in here?” She asked, “It smells a bit…”

“Yes, Mrs. Svendsen, everything is alright. Just some burned bread. Sorry to bother you,” Isak apologized.

“Oh dear, I thought the place was about to burn down!” she exclaimed.

Isak looked over his shoulder at Even who looked like he wanted to die on the spot. Even echoed Isak, “Sorry about that, Mrs. Svendsen. Sourdough is trickier than I thought.”

“Oooh, I love some sourdough!” she smiled.

“I’d be happy to bring some over if you want?” Even offered.

The old women eyed the black blob on the counter and then eyed Even carefully. “That’s alright, dear. Thank you.”

As soon as Isak shut the door, he couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

“I hate you,” Even muttered.

“No you don’t,” Isak countered between laughs. “The nice old lady down the hall doesn’t want any of your bread, Even.”

Even frowned good-naturedly.

“How does that make you feel?” Isak asked with a teasing lilt to his voice.

“Like absolute shit,” Even admitted frankly.

And then they were both laughing.

 “Alright,” Isak finally caught his breath. “How important is this dough to you?”

Even’s shoulders dropped, “I just really _really_ wanted some sourdough bread.”

“And what was wrong with going to the bakery like we usually do?” Isak asked.

“I didn’t want to put on pants,” Even admitted.

Isak shook his head. His cheeks hurt from laughing.

“ _And,_ ” Even raised his voice, “We bought that sourdough starter and completely forgot about it.”

“Okay, fine, why don’t you make another loaf while I start on homework?”  

“You don’t mind?” Even asked, surprised.

“Don’t mind at all, just don’t burn down the place, will ya?” Isak teased.

Even lifted his arm and pointed to their bedroom, “Out,” he commanded.

“Yes, sir,” Isak saluted, picking up his backpack and settling at the table with all of his books.

After cleaning up all the mess, Even started in again on making another load of sourdough bread, determined to be successful this time.

Isak became distracted from his work when he heard grunts coming from the kitchen. Isak lifted his head from his books, “Even?” he called out.

Even breathed heavily, “Yeah?”

“Still got your pants on?” Isak asked.

“Yeah?” Even sounded confused.

“It just, it sounds like your making love to that bread, babe.”

“Jesus Christ,” Even huffed.

“What are you doing?” Isak stood from the table and returned to the kitchen.

“Kneading,” Even explained, running his hand repeatedly over the bread and packing flour onto it, “it’s harder than it looks.”

“Sure it is,” Isak crossed his arms.

“You try then!” Even challenged, “See for yourself!”

“Fine, I will,” Isak accepted.

He nearly stuck his hands straight into the pale dough.

“No, no, no, no,” Even jabbed at his forearms, “Watch your hands first, you animal.”

“Whoops, sorry.” Isak washed his hands quickly then stood in front of the dough. He poked it and was surprised by the texture. He held his hands up around it, not really sure how to start, “So, you just, um?”

Even laughed and took pity on him, “Here,” he placed his arms beneath Isak’s and guided his hands to the sticky dough, “Try rolling over it first with your palm.” He guided their hands together. Isak studied the movements intensely. “Then, grab about half, yeah that’s it,” and fold it over the top, but make sure to stretch it a bit.”

“Like this?”

“Yeah, that’s good, then press down, firm, really work through it,” Even directed.

Isak lost himself in the movements, his hands fitting perfectly with Even’s around the dough. He liked the way their hands worked together. He kept getting distracted by the sexy veins on the back of Even’s hands and his long, deft fingers. After a few minutes, he grew tired of the repetitive movements and his arms felt a little sore. He shook one of his hands to get rid of a cramp.

“Hurt?” Even asked. He wasn’t teasing, but Isak didn’t want to give in.

“No,” he answered petulantly. Even saw right through him and laughed.

“Okay, I think it’s ready. We have to try the windowpane test, now.”

“The what?” Isak was confused.

Even guided Isak’s hands once again, “Here, pick up a piece of it,” he moved Isak’s hips so they were facing the still open window, “Then pull it apart, gently, there,” he said, “See how it thins out and you can see the light through it, kind of like an opaque window, but it doesn’t tear?”

Isak nodded.

“That means it’s ready. The gluten’s activated or something,” Even explained.

“Or something?” Isak chuckled.

Even shrugged, turning his head to look at Isak, “I don’t know. I heard it on TV.”

“Sounds like science,” Isak replied.

Even eyebrows scrunched together, “Sure.” He never understood how Isak could find a scientific explanation for seemingly everything. “Okay, so now it needs to rise.”

They plopped the dough in a bowl and covered it with a thin plastic sheet.

“How long does that take?” Isak asked.

“About four hours.”

“Shit,” Isak exclaimed.

“I know,” Even sighed. “I wasted so much time on the first try!”

“Poor thing,” Isak teased.

Even flicked Isak’s nose and laughed when it left a little bit of flour on the tip of it. Isak picked up some flour with the flat palm of his hand and smacked it across Even’s butt. It left a clear mark and Isak laughed. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, “Please, I need this,” he asked.

Even laughed and turned around, looking over his shoulder as Isak snapped a picture. They both looked at the hilarious photo and Isak immediately considered sending it to the boys.

“Can I-,” he started, but Even cut him off.

“You can send it to the boys, but not Eskild or my mother.”

“Deal,” Isak grinned.

Even leaned in to kiss him then licked the flour off Isak’s nose.

Isak made a sound of disgust but it was quickly replaced by his laughter.

 

 


	2. nailed it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even paints his nails.

 

 

Isak loved Even’s art. He loved how his mind worked, and he could see it on his hands. It seemed like Even’s hands were always covered in something, whether it be graphite, charcoal, paint, dough, hair product, Isak.

Isak liked his man’s hands, how you could just look at them and know for certain he knew how to use them. It drove him wild.

He thought he had seen Even’s hands dusted or accented with almost everything.

So, it was at least a little jarring to see the two little bottles filled with slightly different pale grays set in front of him in the cafeteria that day.

“Hey, Isak,” Vilde smiled, “I couldn’t decide which would color was closest to what Even asked for so I brought both just in case.”

Isak didn’t say anything at first, still staring at the nail polish. Jonas nudged him with his elbow, “Uh, sorry, thanks, Vilde,” Isak finally spoke, looking up at the happy expression on her face.

“No problem!” she replied, “I really like mooning, but cocktail bling is so pretty, too.”

Magnus sputtered next to Isak, chuckling, “What?”

Vilde rolled her eyes, “It’s the names of the nail polish.”

Jonas picked one up, whether it was “mooning” or “cocktail bling” Isak couldn’t tell, and held it close to his face like he was inspecting it, his eyes squinting.

Eva laughed next to him, grabbing the bottle and shaking it a little bit. She unscrewed the top and painted over the chipped blue nail polish on her middle finger. “Huh,” she held out her hand to judge it, “Looks pretty good for gray,” she decided. Eva did tend to wear bolder colors, it was either bright or black, no in between usually.

“Now at least your most used finger isn’t chipped,” Jonas teased.

Eva flipped him off, proving Jonas’ point.

“What is Even going to use them for?” Mahdi asked. It ripped Isak out of his trance. He hadn’t thought about that. Maybe Even was using them in an art project, maybe he wouldn’t be using them on his fingernails. The thought sort of relieved Isak and then he was flooded with guilt at feeling relieved. He winced slightly, thinking back to the disappointing look on Eskild’s face when Isak had said the dumbest thing about tights and mascara. He ended up apologizing for it for weeks. Even now, one very proud Pride Parade later, whenever Isak got a little too drunk around Eskild something inside him still made him drunkenly apologize and kiss Eskild’s cheek. He had seen it on Eskild’s snapchat story the day after parties a few times. He wondered if tonight would be a repeat, seeing as how everybody was meeting up for a tipsy game night at the kollektivet to celebrate Linn’s new job at Plantasjen.

Mahdi’s question lingered in Isak’s mind. Even though he just shrugged because he didn’t know the answer, the thoughts were swimming in his head through the rest of the day.

There was nothing wrong with Even putting on nail polish, right?  The thought was still troubling Isak on his tram ride home. He pulled one of the delicate bottles out of the front pocket of his backpack and examined it closely, like if maybe he looked at it long enough, it would suddenly come to him exactly what Even was going to use it for. The longer he thought about it, the more and more his thoughts drifted to Even’s big strong hands, his long deft fingers, the large flat nailbeds painted with a smooth gray. He wasn’t sure how it made him feel, but the watchful eyes of others on the tram made him put away the nail polish self-consciously. _It’s not mine_ , he thought to himself. He threw his head back at the window of the tram, mentally kicking himself for feeling the overwhelming need to defend his masculinity.

When he got home that afternoon, Even was in the shower, King Princess’ “1950” blaring from beyond the bathroom door. Isak hadn’t really liked the song at first, but Even sang it to him enough times just to prove it was good that eventually Isak just had to admit, “Okay, yes, I like it, Even.”

Isak got to work cleaning up the mess he’d made last night and this morning. He picked up his laundry, stacked his books neatly, folded the mountain of clean socks on the chair, and piled a bunch of clothes in the bin for a wash. He knocked on the bathroom door, “Even? I’m going to do a load of darks. Got anything?”

“Could you grab my maroon hoodie?” Even asked.

Isak dug through the bin in his hands, locating the sweatshirt, “Got it!”

“Thank you!” and “Love you!” Even shouted from behind the curtain.

“Love you, too,” Isak smiled.

Isak almost headed downstairs, but then paused to take the nail polish bottles out of his backpack. He set them on their table and then thought maybe they looked too perfectly placed, like it looked like Isak spent time arranging them or something. He spaced them apart a little more, twisted one bottle so they didn’t look like a display then started messing with the other. He paused, shaking his head, “What the fuck am I doing?” He heard the shower water shut off and bolted for the door like he’d been caught, forgetting the laundry and having to double back for it. Isak was a mess.

As soon as he opened the door to their apartment on his way back from putting the laundry in, a strong chemical smell hit him. He peeked around the corner into their bedroom and finally got the answer he was looking for all afternoon.

Even was painting his nails.

It was the most rational explanation for why Vilde lent him the nail polishes, but still it was somewhat off to take in.

He sat there in just his jeans, no shirt, his hair was still wet and unruly on his head, almost hiding the look of concentration on his face as he carefully painted the nails on his right hand. He wasn’t the least bit shaky, painting smooth, perfect streaks over the nailbed. When he tilted his hand to paint the thumb, he lifted it high enough that his other fingers wouldn’t rub against the table effectively ruining his work.

“Hey,” Isak said, sitting down across from him.

Even was focused on his thumb, saying, “Hi,” but not looking up from where he was working carefully. Once he seemed happy with the coat, he placed the small brush handle back in the bottle and blew on his fingers a bit. “Thanks for bringing these,” he smiled.

“Sure,” Isak nodded, smiling a bit, not really sure what to say. “Umm, which color did you pick?”

Even held up the bottle, showing him. “Mooning,” he answered with a smile.

Isak leaned in closer to look at Even’s nails, “It’s nice. I like it.”

“Yeah?” Even asked, sounding only the slightest bit unsure.

“Yeah, I like gray,” Isak replied.

“Want me to do your nails?” Even offered.

“No,” the words were out of Isak’s mouth before he could stop them. “Or, I mean.”

“Isak,” Even put his unpainted hand on Isak’s, giving him a little squeeze, “Hey, it’s okay. Really.”

Isak hung his head, “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” Even asked. Isak wasn’t sure if Even really didn’t know what was going on in Isak’s head or if he just wanted to hear him say his thoughts out loud.

Probably the latter. This was Even.

“I’ve been sort of freaking out about this stuff since Vilde gave me the nail polish at lunch today,” Isak admitted.

“Freaking out?” Even continued, guiding him gently.

Isak sat back in the chair and looked into Even’s eyes. “I felt sort of ashamed, and, a little angry when Vilde set them down in front of me. And then I kind of hated myself for thinking that. And then I was looking at them on the tram and I felt like all these people were _looking_ at me. I got so paranoid, and I don’t know. It doesn’t weird me out or anything that _you’re_ wearing it, but if I put on nail polish, I don’t know, it would kind of feel wrong. I’m making a mess of explaining this. I’m so sorry,” Isak leaned forward to drop his head in his hands.

Even ran his unpainted hand through Isak’s hair, “This brain never stops for even a second.”

Isak let out a laugh, “I know, lucky me, huh.”

“Let me ask you a question, and I want you to answer honestly, but take a second to really think about it before you answer, okay?”

Isak lifted his head, nodding his assent.

“Have you ever seriously considered wearing nail polish?”

Isak did as he was asked and really thought about it first. Until today, no, he had never really considered it at all. “No.”

“Well, I have.”

“You have?”

Even nodded, “A lot actually. At a first I was worried what people would think. And I didn’t let myself _really_ think about it until a few months ago. Mikael’s been wearing nail polish for years and I never really thought anything of it, but when I first considered what it would be like if I wore it, I straight up panicked. I felt like because I like guys, wearing nail polish would make people assume a lot of things about me and push me further into a specific box, you know? To be honest, I’m still a little worried. But I’ve thought about it a lot. And now that I’m wearing it,” Even shrugged, “I think I really like it. I think it’s nice.”

“It is nice,” Isak agreed.

“But the difference,” Even explained, “is I’ve had the time to think about it, whether it’s something I think I’d like or not. We’re on different timelines with this, you know?”

Isak nodded, knowing what Even was getting at, “Why do you think Mikael wears it?”

Even shrugged, “He likes it. He used to put on the clear stuff because he was trying to keep himself from chewing his nails, but one day he put on some black that he got from Sana and no one really said anything, we just went with it. So, I figure, if Mikael can do it, why can’t I? Why does it matter whether I like girls or boys or both? It’s just something I want to try. So I asked Vilde if I could borrow some and now,” he held up his nails, “here we are.”

Isak looked at Even holding up his hand and for the first time that day, looking at the gray color didn’t make his heart race. It was just something Even wanted to try. It was like Isak getting a new snapback or Jonas getting a new beanie or Noora trying a new lipstick. It didn’t need to mean anything specific or be any kind of coded symbolic. It was just something Even liked.

He still wasn’t convinced he would want to try it, but maybe, if he thought about it more, maybe he’d try it another time. And when he did, it wouldn’t have to mean anything if he didn’t want it to.

“You’re pretty quiet over there,” Even whispered.

Isak shook his head, “No, I mean, I get it now. I think. It doesn’t have to be complicated.”

“No,” Even agreed, “It doesn’t,” he smiled.

Isak picked up the bottle, “Can I try? On your other hand?”

Even nodded, “Sure.”

Isak gave up after fucking up Even’s pinky fingernail. “Shit,” he pushed the brush back in the bottle, “I fucked it up. I suck.”

Even laughed at his frankness. “It’s fine. I think I can fix it, if not,” he shrugged, “oh well, I’ll think of you when I look at it.”

That was okay with Isak.   

When they walked from the tram stop to the kollektivet, Even had shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket absentmindedly, but Isak wanted to see Even’s work. He pulled Even’s left hand out of his pocket and laced their fingers together, Even’s painted ones and Isak’s bare ones. Isak liked the look of Even’s fingernails pressed against the skin of his hand.

“I think you might like it more than me,” Even teased.

“Maybe,” Isak replied. He suavely brought Even’s knuckles up to his lips for a kiss.

He filed away the sweet blush on Even’s cheeks for later.

 

 

 


	3. superstar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even and Isak go to Even's cousin's wedding.

 

 

Even when there’s no music playing, it’s never actually that quiet in a car. There’s the low hum of the tires on pavement, the increasing roar of the engine when the car accelerates, the occasional metronomic rhythm of the blinker. It’s nothing that should be too distracting, but somehow it is for Isak.

He’s been trying to read this chapter on electrostatics basically since they set out of the drive, but his mind kept running away from him. He had barely read two pages and not even in their entirety. He’d lost track of how many times he read the section on Coulomb’s law not absorbing a single thing other than that two like charges repel each other and opposite charges attract. Something told him that basic piece of knowledge wasn’t going to cut it in this third-year physics class he had decided to take.

“How’s the reading going?” Even asked.

Isak looked over and saw the small smirk playing at his lips. He’d been caught staring out the window, out across the water, as they winded along E18. Isak was just thankful he wasn’t driving. “I have to read, Even,” was just a good excuse to get out of it. He’d barely gotten the hang of driving this summer, and even though they were away from the busy and narrow streets of Oslo, the wide-open space of the water and the countryside still managed to make him nervous. He could too easily picture himself driving them clear off the motorway.

“Sorry,” Isak admitted, “Somehow electromagnetism isn’t as gripping as I thought it would be.”

That got the laugh out of Even Isak was anticipating, helping to break the quiet in the car. He closed the heavy textbook on his lap and tilted it up to lean it against his chest, hugging it slightly as he tilted his body in the passenger seat to look over at Even. He leaned his head back against the headrest and watched as Even’s hands glided up and around the curve of the steering wheel. His hands settled together at the bottom of the wheel, his forearms resting easily on his thighs. The dark blue polish on Even’s nails was barely hanging on, chipped and disappearing from all directions. When Isak was packing their bag the day before, he made sure to throw in the nail polish bottle and some rubbing alcohol so that Even could make whatever decision he wanted regarding his nails for his cousin’s wedding tomorrow. Isak didn’t want to think about which option he preferred. Frankly, it was very low on his list of concerns for the weekend.

“Do you want to read aloud?” Even asked. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Isak shrugged, not knowing if Even could see it in his peripheral vision, so he added, “I don’t really feel like reading anymore.”

“Does that mean it’s time for a road trip game?” Even smiled.

Isak adjusted in his seat once again, tossing the textbook onto the backseat lightly, “Okay, sure.”

“Hmm, how about, the picnic one?”

“Yeah, English or Norsk?”

“Mm, English. Let’s make it a bit harder, yeah?”

“Got it. You start.”

“Okay, I’m going on a picnic,” Even began, “and I’m bringing apricots.”

Isak nodded, “I’m going on a picnic and I’m bringing apricots and bananas.”

“I’m going on a picnic and I’m bringing apricots, bananas, and carrots.”

They had gotten pretty far into the game, Even on the letter Q when he paused, “Doritos, eggs and….” He began mumbling, “Doritos, eggs, and… faen, I can’t remember f.”

“Well it’s not faen,” Isak teased.

Even flung his hand over to lightly hit Isak on his arm. Isak chuckled louder, “It was fish cakes.”

“Bleh,” Even muttered, “That’s why I couldn’t remember.”

“They’re not that bad,” Isak remarked, “Noora likes them!”

“Noora also likes flaxseed pancakes,” Even countered.

Isak wrinkled his nose. Even looked over to see the expression on his face.

“Eyes on the road,” Isak chastised.

“Fine,” Even agreed petulantly, taking one of Isak’s hands in his.

“What’s that for?” Isak asked.

“If I can’t look at you, I at least want to touch you.”

If the circumstances were different, Isak would have rolled his eyes and made fun of Even for being cheesy, but he didn’t. Isak was rapidly approaching the edge of his comfort zone and tomorrow morning he would be completely outside of it when meeting Even’s family tomorrow. He let his gaze drift to outside the car, the only thing grounding him being the feel of Even’s palm against his and the occasional brush of Even’s thumb across the curve between Isak’s thumb and index finger.

A few miles later, Even lifted their joined hands to get Isak’s attention. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asked lightly.

“Nothing.”

“Come on, talk to me, Isak.”

“How many people will know about us?” Isak finally asked.

“Well,” Even thought about it. “I mean, Heidi knows, which mean Frank knows. They’re both looking forward to meeting you.”

“Are you telling me only the bride and groom know you’re bringing your boyfriend?” Isak asked, slightly panicking.

“Of course not,” Even insisted. “Mum and dad will be there.”

“Even,” Isak didn’t like the way his voice broke. It was obvious he was starting to freak out.

“Hey, really, it’s okay,” Even hushed him, bring Isak’s hand up to kiss his knuckles, “Aunt Janne’s boy Martin might be annoying about it, but that’s just because he’s twelve and a dickhead.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better, Even.”

“Scared of a twelve-year-old?” Even chuckled.

“Forget it,” Isak pulled his hand free.

“Wait, no, I’m sorry, don’t freak out on me, please?” Even asked, concern in his voice.

Isak didn’t reply.

“Isak?”

“It’s fine, Even. I’m not freaking out.”

 _Lie_.

“It’s okay if you’re nervous. I understand,” Even told him. “If you want, you can just explore Kristiansand and I’ll go to the wedding alone.”

Isak whipped his head around quickly, “I’m not gonna fucking do that.”

“Sorry! I,” Even winced, “I just don’t want to make you do something you don’t want to do.”

Isak didn’t know how to reply.

“You know I want you there with me, baby, but if it’s too much stress, I understand,” Even repeated.

Isak bit his lip. “I am nervous.”

“Me, too,” Even replied.

“Really?” Isak asked. It made him feel worse to know not even Even was sure about this.

“Yeah,” Even spoke, “Last wedding I went to, I spilled wine all over my shirt.” He was smiling.

Isak groaned and leaned his head against the glass of the window.

“Isak?” Even tried again.

“Hmm?” Isak huffed.

Even slid his hand across Isak’s thigh, settling there and squeezing lightly, “I love you. I’m not gonna let anyone feel like you don’t belong there. I’m going to introduce my boyfriend, who I love,” Even repeated, pulling a laugh out of Isak, “and I’m going to be by your side the whole time. We’re gonna have some good fucking cake, have a little bit to drink, make fun of the music choices, and if you’re up for it, we’re gonna dance real slow, probably to one of those Ed Sheeran songs wedding DJs have sold their souls to. And then we’ll head back to the Airbnb around 19:00 and then we’ll do _anything_ you want _as many times_ as you want.”

Isak couldn’t fight the smile on his face. Dancing was definitely not happening. Even squeezed his thigh a little harder, making Isak jerk because it tickled. “Deal?” Even asked.

Isak nodded, “Deal.”

 

 

He couldn’t tell if he felt flushed from all the wine or the comforting weight of Even’s big, safe hand on his lower back. From the moment they arrived for the ceremony, even until now, as Even somehow managed to coax Isak into a dance at the reception. They were surprised to be hearing The Carpenters as they danced in each other’s arms. Frank and Heidi had ditched the idea of a DJ and just made a playlist of their own music, a choice Even and Isak were thankful for.

“Don’t you remember you told me you loved me baby?” Even whisper-sang into his ear, his breath tickling Isak. Isak rubbed his cheek against Even’s jaw, knowing there was no place he rather be than where he was now.

In hindsight, he felt ridiculous for worrying so much. It shouldn’t have surprised him that Even’s family were just as welcoming and warm as Even. Heidi had introduced herself to Isak with a huge crushing hug and Frank had introduced Even to his best man as “Heidi’s favorite cousin.”

“And this is Isak,” Frank had added, “How long have you two been together now?”

Even’s arm reached up along Isak’s spine, gripping his shoulder comfortingly, “Almost ten months,” he beamed.

Frank then shook his hand, “Wow, I’m impressed you’ve put up with this one for that long,” he joked.

“It’s a labor of love,” Isak replied, wrapping his arm affectionately around Even’s waist.

He’d said it in a joking way, of course, but tangled in Even’s arm on the dancefloor and with three glasses of wine in his system, Isak felt the need to clarify. “Even,” he smiled against his ear, “It’s not a labor. It’s easy loving you. I love loving you.”

Even laughed, “I love loving you, too.” He brought the hand that wasn’t on Isak’s lower back up to Isak’s hair, tangling his fingers there and massaging gently. Even kissed at the shell of Isak’s ear, his temple, the edge of his eyebrow, the high point of his cheek, the corner of his mouth, “Thank you for being here with me.”

Isak’s eyes had slipped closed with the first kiss, but he found Even’s mouth easily, letting their kiss linger. Even tasted of port wine and vanilla. “I’m sorry I was so nervous yesterday and this morning. I feel stupid now.”

Even kissed him back, “You’re not stupid.”

Isak nodded, “I know. Your family’s so nice.”

“This is only dad’s side,” Even explained, half-joking.

Isak would ask him about his mom’s side another time. Right now, he was perfectly content swaying in Even’s arms.

“How about one more song then we head back, yeah?” Even suggested.

Isak nodded against Even’s cheek, sighing as Even’s warm hands held him closer. He was starting to feel a little tired from the day, and others had already left the reception, but he wanted to make sure he still had the energy tonight to demonstrate to Even just how much he loved him – over and over and over.

 

 


	4. payback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even gets handsy in a movie theater.

 

 

Isak knew what this was, and this was revenge. It didn’t take very long for him to recognize it at all. He wasn’t talking about the movie they were currently watching on the big screen with Jonas and Magnus either.

In his defense, it wasn’t his fault Even left the volume on his phone all the way up yesterday. _He_ didn’t know the text he sent Even would cause such a big deal. How was _he_ supposed to know they were screening a film in Even’s class that Thursday?

Okay, so the class was called “Women in Film,” sure. But that didn’t have to mean screenings every day in class, right?

Wrong.

And Even had been quite upset when he got home. Not at Isak, but at the situation.

“Isak, I’m one of two men in this class. I know no one will say it, but they already expect that I don’t care and that I’m an asshole wasting their time,” Even explained, his hands rubbing over his face and through his hair, sending strands to stand straight up.

Isak tried not to laugh, he really did, “You’re not an asshole, baby.”

“They made me read the text _out loud_ , _in class_ , Isak,” Even said, his face betraying no falsehood.

Isak went even redder in the face, “They did?”

“That’s the policy,” Even replied.

Isak nearly apologized again, “It’s not my fault you left your ringer on!” Isak laughed louder.

“No? But you couldn’t send me something like ‘Hey, pick up milk on your way home,’ or ‘I’m doing laundry, which jeans do you want washed,’ instead, you send me _that_ ,” Even exclaimed.

“Even,” Isak held his hands up, ready to surrender, “I’m sorry, really, I am. Forgive me?”

Even got up from the chair and strode over to the bed were Isak was inching backward on his knees.

“Even?”

“Maybe,” he answered.

“What are you doing?” Isak asked, his face flushed. God, Even looked so hot.

“What you asked me to do at precisely 15:37 today, babe,” he explained, mischief on his face. He pushed Isak back until he was flat against their bed and Isak couldn’t help but laugh as Even tore his shirt off.

 

So, he thought that was it, that was the payback, right?

Wrong again, Isak.

Even though he thought he settled this yesterday, _twice_ , here he was, trying to keep it together in a dark movie theater, Magnus on his left and Even on his right, and failing miserably.

He should have seen this coming. Even didn’t care for action films all that much and this was the third sequel in the franchise. It wasn’t up his alley at all, but when Isak mentioned it to him, Even agreed without a fight nor trying to change the movie preference.

It was almost too easy.

They were about twenty minutes into the movie, Magnus reaching over and gorging on the popcorn that sat in Isak’s lap. Jonas reached across Magnus for the bucket and stole it away, leaving Isak with buttery fingers and nothing to wipe them on.

Even passed over a napkin that Isak accepted gratefully. He wadded up the greasy napkin and stuffed it in the cupholder.

When Even laid his hand on Isak’s thigh, it was innocent enough. Isak had placed his hand on top of Even’s lacing their fingers together. A few minutes later, however, when Even’s hand started inching higher and higher up Isak’s thigh, slowly but surely.

Isak squeezed Even’s hand, looking over at his smirking face. Even leaned close and whispered in his ear, “Keep watching the movie.”

It made the hair stand up on Isak’s neck. His breath caught in his throat when Even’s hand reached higher, just the edge of his thumb rubbing circles on his inner thigh made all the blood in his body rush either south or to his face. He could feel his jeans getting tighter instantly.

He flipped the armrest up and leaned close to Even, “What if they see?” Isak asked desperately.

“Do you really want me to stop?” Even asked quietly.

And the truth was, Isak didn’t want Even to stop. In fact, it was pretty fucking hot.

So instead of saying yes, Even leaned the other way across Magnus and stole the popcorn back out of Jonas’ lap. Jonas just flipped him off and Magnus stifled a laugh.

Isak situated the popcorn bucket on his thigh, providing a decent barrier between Magnus’ eyes and the situation in Isak’s pants.

Even’s movements became more obvious and Isak had to grip his forearm just to calm down. Even’s hand was cupping Isak just right and he was fully hard in his pants. There was no denying it. If either Jonas or Magnus looked carefully enough, they’d have at least a slight idea of what was happening. And somehow, that made Isak more excited than terrified.

He was discovering new things about himself every day.

Even had waited for a loud series of explosions on the screen to daringly unzip Isak’s jeans in one quick motion. He carefully pulled what he was looking for out of Isak’s pants.

Isak looked down in his lap, saw Even’s big hand wrapped around him in the light of the theatre screen and couldn’t take it. He had to close his eyes and hold his head against the headrest to focus on his breathing.

Even ever so slightly started to pick up speed until Magnus reached straight into the more than half empty bucket of popcorn in Isak’s lap, pawing around like an animal and bumping the bucket against Isak’s hard dick.

Isak cursed under his breath. And Magnus apologized though he didn’t really seem to know what he was apologizing for.

Even smirked next to Isak and resumed his motions, twisting and rubbing just the way he knew drove Isak wild.

Isak could feel himself tensing up, his grip on Even’s forearm intensified. Even had to pry of his hand and instead let it ball into a fist on Even’s thigh.

“Isak,” Jonas whispered shouted, “Can I have the popcorn back?”

Magnus started reaching for it, but Isak quickly gripped his arm around the bucket and held it hostage, “No!” his voice was louder than he could control.

“Jesus Christ, fine,” Jonas whispered back angrily, instead stealing some gummy worms from the contraband bag Magnus had set in his cupholder.

Even laughed quietly, leaned in close to put his lips around Isak’s ear and softly bit until he could hear Isak’s low whine.

Isak spilled onto Even’s hand nearly silently, his breath coming out a little heavier, shaking on the exhale. He slowly released the tension in his right fist and looked down to see Even’s hand covered in his cum. It glistened in the light of the screen. Isak knew if Magnus weren’t within earshot, Even would certainly be saying something about it being cinematic with how pornographic it looked.

Even grabbed a napkin and wiped off his hand, crumpling the napkin and wrapping it once again to stuff in the pocket of his jacket. He put Isak’s spent dick away carefully and quietly buttoned his jeans, but the movie wasn’t loud enough to drown out the sound a zipper, so he didn’t risk it.

Instead, he snaked his arm around Isak to come to rest on his shoulders, pulling him closer to him in the seat. Isak released the popcorn and handed it over to Magnus. He laid his head down on Even’s shoulder and focused on the way Even’s hand moved soothingly up and down his chest instead of on the movie, which Even was right about. It was total garbage.

Later, as the four of them were leaving the theater, Jonas and Magnus seemed to echo the same thoughts.

“I don’t know why you thought it would be any good,” Jonas admitted, looking at Magnus. “I mean, using volcanoes as a weapon? It’s pretty fucking dumb.”

“I don’t know!” Magnus exclaimed, “The trailer looked sick, but then…”

“Yeah, that sucked,” Isak agreed.

“Dude,” Jonas chuckled, “You’re fly’s down.”

“Ha! Has it been like that all night?” Magnus asked as Isak hurriedly zipped up his pants.

Isak shrugged, “Whatever.”

“I don’t know guys, I kind of liked the film,” Even spoke.

All three of them looked at Even like he’d grown another head.

“Seriously?” Jonas asked.

“I was really satisfied when the volcano finally went off,” Even answered. He turned to Isak, nodding contentedly, “Don’t you think so, Isak? Did you even see it coming?”

Isak’s face went red.

Magnus shrieked, “That’s what she said.”

Isak whipped his head to look at Magnus with fear in his eyes. Magnus didn’t seem to catch on, but Jonas looked back down at Isak’s pants, the words forming weakly in his mouth, “Your… the zipper…”

Isak stuttered.

“Faen!” Jonas yelled, bringing his hands up to comb through his wild hair, “Right next to the popcorn!?”

“What?” Magnus was confused.

“Yeah, Isak, right next to the popcorn?” Even teased.

“Fuck!” Isak hit Even’s chest and started walking away from them toward the tram station.

They caught up soon after, Magnus finally understanding the code and laughing along with Jonas and Even.

“Fuck off,” Isak flipped them off over his shoulder. “It was Even’s idea anyway.”

“You sick bastard,” Magnus smiled ear to ear.

Even shook his head, “This _one_ ,” he pointed at Isak, “sent me a dirty text that I had to read out loud in class yesterday. Should I tell them what you sent?” Even asked teasingly.

“What did he send!?” Magnus asked with a little too much excitement.

Isak turned on his heel, “Tell them and we won’t fuck for a month,” he warned.

Even laughed, kissing Isak’s cheek, “Course not, baby.”

Isak rolled his eyes but eventually smiled and kept walking with Even and the guys.

He would never admit it, _or maybe_ he would eventually to Even, but he was thinking about texting Even requests for a good dicking down more often if it meant some thrilling payback like this.

 

 


	5. deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even cuts his hand open.

 

 

It’s the clang of the utensil on the counter then the hushed “fuck” that Isak hears from the kitchen. It’s enough to pull his attention from the video game in front of him. The sharp hiss and pained intake of breath is what pulls him into the kitchen. The pool of blood on the counter and the shocked look on Even’s face is what spurs him into action.

He replaces Even’s blood smeared hand with a clean kitchen towel, wrapping it firmly around his thumb and directing Even’s hand back to apply pressure. He sits Even down at the kitchen table, Even who’s still too shocked to speak. He’s quick getting Even’s boots on his feet, even quicker with his own. He realizes it will be too difficult to get a jacket on Even with both of his hands occupied. He wraps two big scarfs around him, pulls a beanie over his head, and grabs another towel from the bathroom before throwing some layers on himself.

Even still hasn’t said a word, his eyes glued to the towel firm around his hand. Isak places his hands on Even’s cheeks, notices the red smeared on his palm too late for it to not get on Even’s face. “Even, we need to go to the hospital, okay?”

Even doesn’t move, finally speaks, ever so quietly, “It’s so much blood.”

“Come on, baby, we’ve got to go now,” Isak gets him on his feet.

Isak grabs the car keys on the wait out. They’re at the bottom of the stairs when he realizes he didn’t lock the door. Even winces and rearranges the hand towel and Isak can’t be bothered to worry about their apartment being unlocked. He’ll text their neighbor later and ask them to keep an ear out.

Isak hates driving. The prospect is more stressful than any test he could study for, yet he doesn’t have to think twice as he opens the passenger door of Even’s car and helps him get a buckle on while draping the bathroom towel across his lap. It’s too late to get an Uber, and Isak doesn’t want to think about what he would do if Even’s blood got all over the backseat of an Uber.

When he turns on the car, the speakers blare a CD. Isak turns it off so quick he doesn’t even know who the artist is.

The hospital is a couple of miles away and the streets are pretty much dead of cars at 22:00, but Isak takes a deep breath anyway. He’s in the middle of a turn when the most intense whine comes from Even’s throat. It makes Isak grip the wheel even harder and pump the brakes as he just barely skids on the slush on the streets. He glances over to see Even’s peeled back the hand towel, stained with blood so dark it looks more black than red.

“Even!” he yells, reaching across to clench the towel back around Even’s bleeding hand, “You have to keep applying pressure.”

“Sorry,” Even mumbles, following directions and leaning his head against the passenger window.

The rest of the drive goes rather smoothly, fewer than five cars on the road on their way. He keeps talking to Even the whole way, making sure to get coherent responses and encouraging him to sit up rather than against the window. Even seems conscious, more annoyed than incoherent in answering Isak’s repeat questions.

Isak parks as close as possible, but it’s still far away from the front doors of the ER, so he takes off his coat and drapes it around Even’s shivering shoulders as he helps inside the hospital. It’s quiet tonight and Isak is so thankful to walk straight to the help desk without impediment of a line.

The receptionist is friendly and widens her eyes immediately.

“It was a serrated kitchen knife. I don’t know how deep it is, but there was a lot of blood,” Isak explains right away.

A triage nurse is already donning gloves and escorting Even behind closed doors while the administrative aide takes down all the information about Even that Isak provides. Once he’s finished answering questions, Isak asks to join Even. The aide kindly asks him to take a seat in the waiting room until the doctor is ready to have guests enter.

Somehow, it’s the most difficult task to face tonight – waiting. Isak isn’t good at it.

His legs bounce and his hands fidget as he watches the doors he desperately wishes he could just walk right through. He pulls out his phone and starts composing a text to Liv. He thinks better of it and sends the text to Even’s dad instead who tends to take things in stride a little more smoothly than Even’s mother.  

Eventually Isak’s allowed to join Even. They’ve stopped the bleeding, but Even lost a lot of blood so they have him hooked up to fluids, too. He needs nine stitches and a serious dose of pain killers. As they suture him up, Even leans his head against Isak’s shoulder and lets him gently comb his fingers through his hair. “I could see the bone,” Even tells him, his eyes closed, it being difficult for Even to get out.

Isak watches as the red flesh below Even’s pointer finger is stitched back together, closing up the gash.

“It was a deep cut,” the physician’s assistant agrees, “I imagine the wound will be painful for a few more days, tender for some weeks.”

Isak’s about to ask more about the healing process when the attending physician walks in and interrupts. “Hello, Even. You’ll be out of here soon, I just was looking through your medical history and need you to fill out this form. Seeing as how you’re tied up at the moment,” he gestures to the wound, “if you’ll allow me or your partner to fill this out according to what you dictate, that should suffice. However, I or our EMPA here must be in the room for this since you’re unable to fill it out yourself.”

“Sorry, what kind of form is this?” Isak asks, accepting the green paper.

“Legally, we’re bound to insist it’s filled out to completion,” the doctor nods.

It takes Isak no time at all to realize it’s some form of a mental health self-assessment. Most questions working as a ranking system of 1 to 5 in terms of likelihood.

“Isak can write for me,” Even agrees.

Isak clicks the pen and starts on the first question, “Over the past few weeks, you have been feeling very tired, experienced issues falling asleep or staying asleep? 1 being strongly disagree and 5 being strongly agree.” 

Even answers 3, briefly explaining his neutral feelings about it. It’s impossible for Isak to not be internally answering these questions about Even, too, suddenly thinking back to what their sleeping habits have been lately, their dietary habits, the seemingly inconsequential moments, feeling like maybe he’s missed something. Even’s cut his hand open on accident. He knows that. Even knows that. The medical professionals in the room probably think that. But still, this mint green questionnaire in his hands make his brain buzz with concern.

“Lost appetite?” Isak continues.

“2,” Even answers.

“Lost weight without trying to?”

“4.”

“Lost interest in things you usually care about?”

“4”

“Talking or moving more slowly?”

“3.”

“Moving all the time or can’t sit still?”

“3.”

“Less interested in sex?”

Even pauses, waiting for the assistant to finish up the suture and set the gauze in place. He thumbs over the edge of the cloth, “1.”

That’s fine, Isak tells himself. He must admit, it feels true. He hasn’t exactly been counting lately, but they have been getting each other off pretty much any chance they get over this winter break without any exams or projects to be concerned about.

“Feeling worthless, sinful, or guilty?”

Even hesitates before answering, “4.”

They zoom through the rest of the questionnaire, stopping only briefly when it comes to the questions of the self-harm variety. The how and the how often and how long making Even stop and think for a while which Isak takes as a good sign. And when it comes to the when, Isak is jarred to find out it’s more recent, less than three months ago. Even apologizes, wishing Isak didn’t have to hear all this, but Isak doesn’t let Even belabor it much more than that. They can talk about this later or Even can talk about it with a mental health professional. Sure, they’re in a room with medical professionals, and ER staff are supposed to be ready for anything, but these men don’t know the exact details of Even’s mental health history and they’re not his psychiatrist. It’s like fitting a square peg in a rectangular hole. Sure, it fits, but it’s not quite right. There are still gaps.

Based on Even’s answers, they’re free to go without further medical treatment, though the doctor recommends Even schedule an appointment with his psychiatrist sooner rather than later.

Liv and George are in the waiting room, waiting for Isak and Even. Even’s parents hug him, wrap him in a blanket. Liv kisses Isak’s cheek. “Thank you for texting, dear.”

“Of course,” Isak responds, “Listen, could he stay at yours tonight? There’s a lot of blood in our kitchen and I really should clean it up tonight. I don’t want him to see it. He didn’t react well earlier.”

“I’ll come help,” George offers. Isak thinks about refusing, but this way Liv can take Even back to his parent’s home and George can drive Isak back to their apartment.

“Come back tonight?” Even asks Isak over his shoulder.

“Always,” Isak agrees.

They part ways and within fifteen minutes, Isak and George are on their hands and knees, yellow gloves on, scrubbing the blood off the kitchen tile. Some of it has seeped into the grout, staining the substance a stark brown. It will need a special cleaner but it’s not time sensitive.

George doesn’t say much as they clean. He thanks Isak for thinking quick and reminds him that circumstances could be much worse and they should both be thankful they aren’t. He says, “He’s lucky to have you, son.”

And Isak’s never admitted it to George, afraid it might somehow make things weird, but it really makes him feel good inside to hear him call him ‘son.’

George decides to go heat up the car downstairs while Isak gathers the things they’ll need for a night or two at Liv and George’s.

Liv and George got rid of the lofted bed months ago, but most of Even’s room is still the same. Pictures and drawings on the wall, the same sheets and duvet, the painting on the back of the blinds, the dresser full of more pairs of socks than Isak and Even have in their entire apartment.

Even’s in bed when he arrives. Isak takes a few minutes to wash his face, brush his teeth, and pull on some comfortable pajamas before crawling in bed behind Even.

Even’s awake, but only barely. His bandaged hand resting on the pillow. His other hand reaches around and pulls Isak’s hand close against his chest. He rubs his thumbs across Isak’s knuckles and sighs when Isak kisses the nape of his neck.

They have a lot to talk about in the morning, but for now, Isak is just glad to have Even in his arms after a more than scary accident. Tomorrow, they can talk.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay guys. I feel like a fair number of people enjoy this series. I have to be honest, it's really fun to write. I'm working on the last chapter for this installment which should be finished by 2019. Let me know where the anatomy series should go next. What anatomical feature should be featured next? Share your headcannons and let me know if you would want me to adapt it into a chapter in the future. I'm leaning toward ears on my next installment, but still open to suggestions!


	6. personal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isak stresses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter switches to Even's POV!

****

 

 

Even used to think, when Isak got this stressed out, it was best to leave him be. Clear the area, minimize distractions, don’t come near. It wasn’t necessarily that he was worried Isak would be angry. Isak never really snapped at him. He’s seen him do it to his Dad, has witnessed his patience run thin with Magnus’ antics, and has even lost his temper around Eva who completely loses sense of boundaries when she’s drunk. He’s never snapped at Even, though. He doesn’t think Isak has it in him. He’d be more concerned about trying to comfort Isak, and Isak just completely breaking down. Even thought his heart couldn’t take it.

There are no words Even could share with Isak when he gets like this. When it’s words of encouragement pitted against a looming deadline, in Isak’s head, the deadline always wins. This, Even has come to understand.

Isak’s been working on this application all month, since it opened. He’s spent several hours almost every night trying to make it perfect, trying to find the right words, the best words, to describe exactly why they should pick him instead of the tens of other applicants vying for the same research position. While Even doesn’t exactly understand the science of the research, he does understand that it’s a coveted position – a yearlong assistantship in one of the best labs at UiO, tuition waived, and a generous stipend on top of that. Plus, “I’d be a Haugen Scholar, Even.”

It’s all Isak’s been able to think about this entire semester. He’s not so secretly grateful Sana has chosen next fall to study abroad, otherwise the competition would be even steeper. He’s reminded Even of this multiple times.

The application is due January 1st, so Isak’s been working all day to have it finished by today since they have plans for a nice dinner with the Bech Naesheim’s on New Years Eve night, followed by a countdown party with their friends.

So Isak’s been typing for hours. He’s bitten his nails down so far they’ve bled. He’s hardly eaten anything. He’s on his third coffee, and he’s only taken breaks to relieve himself. Even is worried. He has half a mind to phone his parents and their friends to cancel plans so Isak can still have tomorrow. He’s thought about offering that option, but Even’s hovered in the archway too much that he could feel the extra stress emanating off Isak’s body. He’s been hiding in the kitchen since he caught himself in the middle of falling asleep on their bed. Somehow the prospect of napping right behind Isak while he slowly loses his mind doesn’t sound like the most supportive thing to do.

He’s been trying to distract himself with reading, barely getting through two pages in thirty minutes because it’s hard to concentrate when the love of your life is stressing the fuck out on just the other side of the wall. Eventually, the sound of the keyboard clicks cease. Even waits a full minute but doesn’t hear Isak’s fingers hard at work again.

A moment later, the laptop slams shut. Even has heard the scrape of the chair against the floor, the beginning of a sob forming in Isak’s throat and the soft thud of Isak on their bed.

He closed his book, stood up silently and walked into their bedroom only to find Isak’s knees pulled up to his chest, his face buried in his hands, and his back strained with the emotional stress of the task.

Even’s heart has broken anyway.

He grabbed their coats, found a few extra layers, and began dressing himself in warmer clothes all while Isak quietly hid his face in his hands.

Even crouched down in front of Isak.

“Isak?” Even asked quietly. He received no response.

Even shuffled the coats in his hands, reaching out carefully to tap Isak’s hands with his pointer finger, “Hello? Are you in there?”

It’s muffled, but Even can just make out what Isak said in reply, “I just needed a break.”

Even nodded even though Isak couldn’t see it, “I thought so, too. Let’s take a walk.”

Isak shook his head, “Even, I’m not done yet and it’s so cold outside.”

“I know. We won’t be gone long.”

Isak didn’t reply to Even knocked with his finger on Isak’s hands once again, “Come on, what do you say?”

Isak pulled his hands away from his face, sniffling as he did. His face was pink and shiny from his crying. He looked so young like this. Like the boy Even met in high school.

“Come on,” Even repeated, wiping Isak’s cheeks and quickly pressing a firm kiss between his eyebrows, “Let’s go.”

 

The streets are quiet this time of night. It’s nearly the next morning. The snow from early today is still fresh that it collapses delicately beneath their boots, not yet a slippery slush.

Even has Isak closed to his side, holding his hand in a way that covers most of Isak’s arm with his own. Isak is mostly quiet, answering Even’s questions with subtle head nods, tired one-word answers or small shrugs. But then, “I just hate writing about myself. I rather write about literally anything else, or not write at all.”

“Are you having trouble fitting all of your accomplishments into two thousand words?” Even teased.

Isak rolled his eyes, “No. It’s like I have to sell myself to the review board.”

“It didn’t take much for me to be sold on you,” Even reminded him.

Isak almost started arguing but bit his tongue. “Thanks, Even,” he dropped his head on Even’s shoulder. Even squeezed his hand tighter.

They wandered into the park, their feet quietly crunching on the fresh snow. They were sort of walking aimlessly for a while, every bench covered in a layer of wet white. Isak started guiding them toward a small gazebo in the middle, the bench seats inside free of the snow.

Isak took a seat inside but quickly decided the bench was too cold and joined Even in the middle of the space. Even took him willingly into his arms, holding him close. Isak turned his head to bury in the scarf at Even’s neck.

“I don’t think I’m good enough,” Isak admitted.

“I don’t think that’s true,” Even answered.

“I know you don’t,” Isak sighed.

“Isak, why do you want this position?” Even asked, pulling back to look him in the eyes.

“Because I want to study neurotransmission,” Isak shrugged.

“Why that?” Even continued.

“Because I want to help people,” Isak answered.

“Isn’t that good enough?” Even replied.

“Everyone applying wants to help people, Even. Or at least I think they do.”

“Sure,” Even agreed, “But if you’re trying to write yourself as the best in the applicant pool, you’re going to sound like every other applicant.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying it doesn’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to be perfect. You just need to make them remember you.”

“And how do I do that? I don’t want to do the whole ‘My mom’s mentally ill and my dad left me and now I’m stronger, feel bad for me, eat up my sob story bull shit, blah blah blah.”

“Yeah, don’t do that.”

“Well duh,” Isak rolled his eyes.

“Maybe just be honest. Write about how you hate writing about yourself. Change the prompt, or whatever.”

“I don’t think that’s allowed,” Isak replied.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Even said, “They asked you to write a personal statement. Who says it has to be about you. It can be about someone else and still be personal.”

“Okay, I’ll give it a shot,” Isak finally agreed.

“Right, now it’s fucking cold. Let’s go home.”

Isak barked out a laugh. “Alright, let’s go.”

 

Even tried to stay awake when they got home. He really tried.

But it was so warm in their apartment and the bed looked so comfortable and the pajamas Isak’s mom got him for Christmas were so cozy. He was asleep within minutes, the soft tapping of fingers on keys lulling him to sleep.

He awoke to a heavy weight on top of him and the ghost of a breath against the shell of his ear. “I finished it,” Isak whispered.

Even stirred awake, rolling his body over and Isak collapsed on top of him.

“Hmm?” Even yawned.

“I finished it. Will you proofread it, please?”

Even rubbed his eyes, “Yeah, okay.”

He used their bathroom first before sitting down in front of the computer screen. He blinked blearily at the bright blue blight. It was nearly 5:00.

 _To know me is to know every person I’ve ever met_.

Even turned around to tell Isak he liked the first line, but Isak was already passed out in bed, still wearing his jeans.

When Even crawled back into bed that morning, Isak stirred next to him, eventually curling into his body and wrapping his arms around him. Even laced his fingers with Isak’s and kissed his hand before drifting back to sleep.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What should Part 3 of Anatomy Series feature? Let me know in the comments!


End file.
